The Glassblower(63)

“But who’s to say that isn’t my purpose in life? I’m the eldest, after all, and that means I am responsible for my younger sisters.”

“There are other ways to accept responsibility,” Strobel retorted, raising his eyebrows. As always when he wanted to make a point, he leaned over the table. His breath smelled of fish and parsley sauce.

“Your purpose in life is not to serve others. Your purpose is to lead. You should not run around after your sisters all the time—rather they should run after you! Just look at yourself: you are a strong woman. But if you jump to attention every time Ruth or Marie or anyone else whistles for your help, you simply make yourself ridiculous.”

What did Strobel think he was doing, shoving his nose into her affairs like this? She didn’t like the way he talked about her sisters either. But if she were honest with herself, she often felt silly for scurrying faithfully off to Lauscha every weekend. She said, “Perhaps you find it ridiculous that I love my family. But I can’t change that. After all, I’m just a simple village girl. And I’m not as strong as you say. If I were, your clients wouldn’t like it. Men prefer women who smile nicely and agree to everything, do they not?”

“That may be true for the common herd,” Strobel said dismissively. “However, there are also true connoisseurs who are man enough to want to take on a strong woman. And I’m not just talking about business here . . .” he added, drawing out his words.

The conversation had taken an unpleasant turn. At the very least, it was becoming personal. Embarrassed, Johanna picked at her fish, which lay untouched on her plate. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask about his travel plans, but she didn’t know how to change the subject. “Most men don’t care for it when a woman has opinions of her own. Never mind a strong will,” she replied sharply.

Strobel shrugged.

“As I have said, there are men, and there are men. I like it very well indeed when a woman shows her dominance. In my experience, a man may even find great”—he hesitated for a moment, as if looking for the right word—“pleasure in submitting to such a woman. Putting himself into her hands. Of course both the man and the woman must show certain qualities, but this is not quite so rare as you may think. The phenomenon can even be found in many works of world literature. Perhaps I should give you one such work to read.”

His mood brightened suddenly. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea,” he said, greatly pleased with himself.

Johanna frowned. What on earth was Strobel talking about? She cleared her throat and pointed at the fish with her fork.

“Perhaps you could show me again how to get the bones out? Otherwise I’ll be sitting here till midnight with this plaice!”



Strobel watched thoughtfully as Johanna vanished into the dark hallway.

She had shied away so quickly when the conversation became personal that he had no doubt that she was still a virgin. All the same, he was certain that she had at least an idea of what he had been talking about.

He poured himself more champagne but did not drink it. His thoughts were so tantalizing that he needed no further stimulation.

Johanna, his assistant. And his key to freedom.

In less than three weeks it would be done; he would travel to B. while his business thrived under her care. He shifted about on his chair in a fever of anticipation. A kaleidoscope of gruesome yet gorgeous visions unfolded before his mind’s eye. In his eagerness he didn’t even notice at first that some of these images were of Johanna and no one else. Then he heard himself laugh.

Why not, after all?

Why shouldn’t he mix business with pleasure? Had that not been his intention from the start? Which he had only discarded—at least until today—because the matter of B. had arisen in the meantime? Could he not initiate Johanna into the game, at least a little ways? The risks were great, he had to admit; in the worst case, she would be shocked by the suggestion and give notice, and then he would have lost a capable assistant.

All the same, the thought of introducing a woman whose sensual appetites still slumbered into his kind of pleasure was ever more enticing. It was something he had done only once before, but at this moment, he didn’t want to remember the catastrophe that had resulted. As a rule, the women he played with were all more experienced at the game than he was. Perhaps that was another reason he did not know how to shift what was—so far—a business relationship to the next level. He gnawed at his lower lip until he tasted the familiar metallic flavor. Should he take her out on the town? Whisper sweet words in her ear? Shower her with gifts?